Chrysanthemums
by orangethyme
Summary: Post-Hiroshima and Nagasaki Bombings. America would go to great lengths to receive Japan's forgiveness; anything from overseas aid to a bouquet of flowers. USxJapan one-sided , but mainly established Asakiku
1. Chapter 1

I haven't written fanfiction for years, and this will be my first Hetalia fic, so please bear with me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. This story is not historically based.

Human names and country names used.

The ground was cold and soft. America's boots splashed in the muddy water that stayed after the storm as though it was too much work to seep into the dirt that was once a city. The remaining wind tugged on his thick jacket and hair, but he continued to walk through the devastation.

Ruins surrounded him and everything was broken and filthy. He knew that there was no living here, only death and hate, lingering not only in the air but sinking into the earth itself. He smelt something coppery, metallic, but he didn't focus on it. That wasn't his job. His job was to retrieve the enemy, not to think. 'Retrieve the enemy'…his boss's words for 'I want to see his broken face'.

He scanned the area. No Japan. America really didn't even know what he was looking for; the once pristine white naval uniform or a torn and bleeding body. The others from this site that he'd seen were hideous; melted skin, bone fused with glass, screaming, vomiting, blood everywhere…would Japan be like that? Would he be screaming in pain, covered in red stains and reeking of rotting flesh? Or would he be the stubbornly proud nation who was prepared to give his entire existence to his people and his emperor? _No one could have gotten through unscathed,_ he thought as his boot plunged into the mud and squelched loudly as he practically yanked it back up.

Then he saw it, a tiny patch of white surrounding by a thick, maroon coating of mixed blood and dirt lay several yards away from him.

Alarm flooded his mind as he rushed towards it, nearly losing his boots in the process. As he got closer, he saw that the clothing was half under a heap of what was once a building, broken wood and shattered bricks littered the surrounding area. Another shock of horror jolted his body as he caught sight of a hand, limp and stained red, lying in great contrast to the ruins around it with its tiny, ivory fingers. He dropped to his knees beside the limb and grasped it, hoping desperately to feel a pulse, a twitch, anything to say that the Asian was alive.

It did not respond.

He squeezed harder, dread beginning to fill his heart. _Oh my God…It killed him, it actually killed him…no…No! It's not supposed to be like this! He was supposed to be hurt, lose his will to fight, not his life…not his life…what have I done?_

His eyes burned as scorching liquid filled them. He'd never meant for this. Never. How could he have done such a thing?! Why had he even considered that Japan would be okay? The man was so tiny, so thin and fragile… and he'd known that! He'd known it the whole time. His throat tightened and he felt his breath hitch.

The hand twitched.

Orbs of the sky itself widened and America almost screamed in surprise. The hand twitched again and an odd sound, something of a moan and cough erupted from the ruins. Immediately, the blond began to tear at the soil and wood, ripping large chunks away and hastily splashing offending water to the side.

Finally, after several minutes of frantic digging, he pulled away the last layer of debris revealing the filthy torso and head of his once-friend, now enemy. He struggled to force his hands underneath the body and pulled the frighteningly light man out. His heart dropped into his stomach as he took a look at Japan's ripped uniform, soaked with scarlet and torn away completely from his left leg, revealing sickeningly white bone surrounded by black burns and melted flesh. America lifted Japan onto his lap and studied his face, searching for any other sign of life. He realized that the man looked like nothing more than a child, despite having lived for several times his age, and red liquid spilled from the corner of his mouth and his perfect almond eyes were softly closed. Alfred pulled back the remains of the jacket and watched the thin chest intently until he saw it rise and fall unsteadily. _He's alive…_he thought. And with that, he stood and gently gathered the broken form in his arms and Japan's limp head lay against his shoulder as he walked towards the plane.

***

Alfred walked through the halls of the white building. Nurses bustled by with equipment he wouldn't want to see even on Halloween and patients groaned and cried in every room. He turned the corner, pivoting military-style, and moved quickly to the end of the hallway where several dark-haired people waited on benches to one side of it.

Several of the Asian nations had come to visit their fallen sibling. Al could see that some hard feelings still existed between several of them, especially the one they called Korea, who snapped at the mere mention of Japan. China had probably convinced them to come with him. It seemed as though no matter what, China came to check on his siblings; Al couldn't understand it. If he had done to England was Japan had to China, England would have never spoken or even come near him ever again. China was more forgiving…too forgiving…He smiled brightly at them, especially the girl they all called Taiwan who was practically in tears for her brother.

"You all look pretty good!"

"Shut up, you scum. We all know that you're on _his_ side," Korea snarled, dropping his usual 'da ze~!' and bounciness. Alfred grinned anyway, someone had to be happy and he'd been expecting just as much from the young Korean.

"Ano-Alfred-san?" The girl hiccupped timidly; her eyes and speech reminded him of Japan, "Alfred-san, will Nihon-onii-sama be alright?" He grinned wider.

"Of course he'll be okay, I've got the best staff in the world working with him!"

"You do?" She smiled a little bit. He was a sucker for weepy smiles.

"Yep!"

"Great, he'll be up and trying to re-conquer the world in no time," Korea growled under his breath, "I don't know why aniki spends all his time with that good-for-nothing…he's making himself sick." America's grinned twitched… maybe it was because he had a brother himself that he was beginning to get defensive.

"That _good-for-nothing_," a new voice hissed from the doorway of the small room across from the group, "is _your brother_, aru." Alfred shuddered, China could be really scary sometimes.

China was still thin from the war, his eyes were tinged with red from the lack of sleep and his arms were bandaged from the wrist up. His hair had grown and was trailing like a river of ink down his back. The other Asians froze then nodded silently to their eldest sibling. Taiwan whispered to him,

"Gege? Is nii-sama getting better?"

China's face softened, he nodded. "A little bit, aru. He is breathing on his own now, aru, and seems to be responding to my voice." He turned to America then suddenly dipped into a deep bow, something that Al knew meant a lot of respect to Asians. "Thank you, aru. Words cannot describe my gratitude of your kindness towards my baby brother. I am forever in your debt." The river of ink slipped from his back to his shoulder and hung there like silk lichen.

"Aniki~ you play favorites! You like Nihon best!" Korea muttered bitterly from his spot next to the door. China snapped up,

"No I don't, aru."

"Yes you do." Echoed the rest of the Orientals in the hallway. China laughed loudly and sighed.

"Alright, maybe a little bit."

"Well, we love you anyway." America looked in the direction of the strange accent…it sounded kind of…British?

"Thank you Hong Kong. Okay, guys, it's time to head home. Be safe, aru!" America blinked; China was such a mom. The sea of dark hair whispered faint goodbyes to their brother in the small room then exited, waving to China as he remained. He turned to Al,

"I'll stay, aru. You can take a few days off, I know that you come here everyday." America laughed.

"Thanks, man. But I'm happy to do it, you've got issues of your own to deal with."

"He's my brother." America winced at the sudden sharpness of China's voice.

"Okay, alright; do whatever makes you happy!" He glanced down at the flowers in his hands, "Oh, and can you give him these? France said chrysanthemums would suit the situation." China smiled,

"Ah yes, it actually suits it more than you think…"

"Why's that?"

China looked up at him with a soft grin, "Japan's name is Kiku."

"Yeah, and?"

"Kiku means 'chrysanthemum'.

A/N:

Man I haven't written in a long time…it's _hard_…but please bear with me as I get back into the swing of things. For those who don't know, giving chrysanthemums in France is bad because they symbolize death. (ah the wisdom of my French book) so he's actually being mean XD


	2. Chapter 2

I was pleasantly surprised with the reviews I received and decided to continue.

And by the way, I am _fully_ aware that the Asian countries had extremely strained relations with Japan during WWII and have been for quite some time, but I don't find that relevant in a work of fiction, so the characters will be somewhat ooc for the historical time period.

Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia or anything of the like

It was several weeks before Alfred found the Asians back at the hospital. He was slightly surprised but laughed it off. It felt better to have other people there. He'd visited everyday and sat next to the skillfully bandaged, barely breathing nation. His heart had clenched as he had tried to hold Japan's hand during one of his frequent fevers and had received only a gasp of pain in response. And even then, Japan had not awoken. Silently, he suffered.

He grinned widely as he attempted to comfort the ever-concerned Taiwan. Eventually, she smiled and he made an enemy out of every one of her brothers in a matter of three seconds. _Good start,_ he mentally congratulated himself. _Now all you gotta do is find an excuse for a hug and you'll finally meet that old guy Italy's always talkin' about._

Korea wasted no time in informing Alfred that he'd been dragged kicking and screaming to the hospital and that if he'd had his way he would have never even gotten on the plane. He also wasted no time in threatening castration upon Al's communication with his sister. The others were relatively quiet, most having been dragged along, away from important matters at their homes. Taiwan was the only one who showed any sign of concern, everyone else just looked irritated.

But he perked up as he suddenly heard a familiar voice…it wasn't China…

"Get off! Get OFF! Don't touch me! I swear, I promise, I'll do whatever you want, just please, _please;_ not another one…I can't take anymore…" It was hoarse and desperate and followed by a horrible sequence of coughing and a cry of pain…or was that…fear. Abandoning Taiwan, he practically ripped the door from its hinges and joined China in his attempt to calm the once-samurai before him.

"Kiku! Kiku, it's okay. It's me, aniki -onii-san -gege. Please, Kiku." China suddenly snatched his brother's wrists. "Look at me."

Japan didn't. He kept struggling and trying to pull away, but then, he just stopped. China eased his grip and slowly sat on the bed beside his brother. He moved his arms to support the tiny frame and gently pulled Japan half into his lap. Slowly, China maneuvered the man to face him only to find that his eyes had closed and his breathing had slowed…he'd fallen asleep. Sighing in frustration, the raven-haired man settled his brother back onto the bed and softly stroked his hair. America stood silently at the foot of the bed, watching China with an oddly…protective, even possessive, expression. His suddenly cold eyes met China's dark brown orbs and the room lost its warmth for a second before the trademark smile spread quickly across his face once more.

"Well, then. Quite the way to wake up, huh?"

"No," China hesitated, "America, he thought I was you."

The blinding smile remained. "I know."

"That's…not a good thing."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

"Actually, China, it's _you_ who doesn't know."

China shrank back. _Rude little brat_ he hissed mentally before catching himself, remembering that he'd said the same about Japan what seemed like an eternity ago. America moved slowly to Japan's side and carefully stroked his long hair out of his face. Japan noticeably flinched in his sleep, but then relaxed.

"He cries in his sleep, in his fever, in his pain…he cries for you and the others…for something. I'm not sure what."

"Forgiveness?" America met his eyes again.

"No… sometimes he begs for an end. And end to his suffering. He apologizes over and over, once he just kept saying 'I'm sorry' all night. He only stopped when the nurses sedated him. I don't know if he is talking to me or calling for you. But either way, it hurts."

China looked up, surprised at the suddenly soft tone. He recalled that compared to Japan and he, America was nothing more than a child, a particularly tall and strong child, but simply a boy. He had not experienced the pain and guilt of crushing the enemy to dust. Poor thing, what a miserable way to taste the bittersweet victory of war.

He stood and strode silently to America's side and stood on his toes to ruffle his hair. The blond looked completely shocked. He looked away.

"My brother has always been very controlling of his surroundings, but you know he didn't use to be like this. I mean, sure, he and Korea have never gotten along but he'd always just taken it. I think that he had it all bottled up. I never had to punish him like I did his brothers and sisters; he was an obedient child, quiet and polite. He isn't used to punishment or consequences so he doesn't know how to deal with this but through fear."

America sighed, "I'm not mad. The war is over. What's done is done." China laughed.

"Nothing is ever completely finished." A small sound drew them out of conversation. Japan shifted slightly and moaned in his sleep. China cautiously reached out and wrapped his slender fingers around his sibling's ivory ones. The movement and sound stopped and the small form grew. America's grin leapt back to his face.

***

Korea sat in a chair by the bed. China had mumbled something about finding tea and by way of the 'not it' game, he'd been volunteered –read 'forced- to stay with the jerk until the posse returned. He glared and borderline snarled at the form before him.

"I hate you, you know." He bit out at the sleeping man. " I hate you more than I've ever hated anyone; I always have and I always will, you scum. I can't even think of an appropriate name for you…filthy, hateful people like you don't deserve names. You're even worse than amebas. They're microscopic, and they have names. No. You're not even worth as much as a microscopic being. Your _existence_ makes the entire planet cringe. That's right, the ENTIRE planet. Yep, uh-huh. You're _that_ filthy-"

"Man, cram it." Korea looked up to see America staring at him. "He's not even awake. If you're gonna insult someone, you may as well do it when they can hear you."

Korea laughed, "Like you have any right to tell me what to do. And by the way, people can still hear while they're asleep, so _you_ cram it, Mister Know-It-All."

"He's your brother." Korea chuckled at this.

"He's no brother of mine."

That was the last straw. America tore him from his seat and pinned him to the wall. His usually sky-blue pools froze over in a way that would make Russia proud.

"I don't care if you hate him. I don't care if you love him. He's your brother. Brothers stick up for each other. England hates me for what I did to him, but I know that no matter what, I can count on him for support. No one even sees my brother Canada but if anyone even _thinks_ about laying a finger on him, I swear to God I will break their face so bad New York rats will flee in terror. Now I don't know about the traditions in Asia or what you guys consider to be brotherhood but I'm pretty sure it doesn't involve deriding a helpless person who can't even breath much less talk."

Korea was suddenly sure that America only put on a friendly face and that this…beast…was the one who'd fought through a Civil war and two World ones. He felt his shoes touch the ground and slowly he was lowered back into the chair.

"A-America-sama…" Said person whipped around and darted to the side of the bed.

"Ah, c'mon man, don't call me that. Just Al's okay. What's wrong? You hungry? Something hurt?"

"He's right…" Japan opened his eyes weakly and studied America's face. His eyes had lost their ambitious gleam; only pain remained there. His voice was cracked and forced and he rested his head on the pillow as though it was too heavy to lift. "He's right. I deserve it, after all that…." America frowned. He ruffled Japan's hair.

"You know, I found out your human name." Japan didn't move. "Kiku, huh? Sounds kinda like a girl's name. Suits you though, you look like a girl."

"America-sama…please don't try to avoid it. You know as well as I that Yongsoo is right." His dull eyes focused on Korea. "And you have every reason to feel that way…" The soft brown orbs, like those of China, closed and the thin body stopped moving once more.

"Kiku-nii-chan~" Taiwan peeked her head into the room, "I heard your voice. Are you awake, nii-chan? I have tea." Her forehead creased as her gaze fell on upon her still sibling. "Weird, I could have sworn I heard him. Yongsoo, you didn't say anything mean, did you? If you did, I won't give you tea." Korea sighed and rolled his eyes,

"Because being without tea is the worst punishment this world has ever seen."

Taiwan gasped, "It is, though! Well, whatever. If you don't want it, I'm sure America-sama will take it, yes?" America laughed as he felt the shifty, narrow eyes of a suddenly great number of people fall upon his back. Well, maybe that 'Rome' guy was nice…

A/N:

Well then, round two. Somehow, my fanfiction feels really empty and plain to me…weird…I'll have to try to fix that. Anyway, I'm fascinated with the intense hate that Korea has for Japan, and hey, if I were him, I wouldn't be all sunshine and daisies either.


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred stared down at the sleeping form intently. Japan was no longer the helpless wreck that he'd carried into the room, he usually woke up and spoke or read or played games with Al these days. But his eyes were hollow, his words and his laughs were too. Talking to him was like talking to a stone wall, the answers were always predictable and more often than not, echoed back. Japan never said anything about how he was truly feeling. Another fever had come in the last few days, the doctors told him that Japan was likely extremely delusional and in severe pain, but when Al carefully woke him to ensure that he was still living, he just studied him like he always did, smiled and told him that he felt fine and that everything was starting to heal, just like always.

The problem really was that Alfred knew such things were a complete lie. He knew that Japan's wounds had just barely healed over and the doctors assured him that they were extremely painful and uncomfortable. He knew that his 'friend' could barely lift his own head on a good day and that on a bad one, he would cover for this by saying that the medicine that he was given made him tired, which wasn't completely a lie, but it wasn't completely true either. The staff had also taken America aside to explain to him the high likelihood of Japan having leukemia or some other cancer or radiation poisoning, assuring him that they would do anything they could for him. And possibly the worst of all, he knew that Japan would have to endure whatever came his way. He was a nation, he couldn't escape the suffering by death, he could only grit his teeth and take it, and while Al would admit that Pearl Harbor hurt something awful, two atomic bomb wounds would make it appear as a scratch.

Movement suddenly caught his eye. He moved to Japan's bedside and watched him struggle slightly against the sheets. He leaned in and carefully loosened them a touch and watched the smaller man relax behind them. Glancing around, he spotted the chair stationed in the corner and retrieved it, pushing it right to the bed and planting himself at Japan's head. Without thinking, he ran his calloused fingers through the black silk that reminded him so much of dark water. The strands slipped smoothly around his fingers and returned to the rest of the mass. He repeated this, as he always did when Japan slept, for several hours, wondering just what would become of this unfortunate soul. In doing so, he found himself answering questions. Will he ever get better? Of course, I'll take care of him myself. Where will he go? He can't stay here forever, too long and they'll get suspicious and start running unnecessary tests. He can stay at my place.

"Mm.." he retracted his hand and watched as Japan shifted away from it, favoring a cooler spot on the pillow. He didn't really lift his head as much as drag it, proving that this was another bad day.

"Kiku…Japan, I know you don't like it when I say your human name…I…I want to know something." The figure didn't respond. "I know that when you're not feeling well, you lie to me and tell me you are. Why? Do you do it out of respect? Obligation? Or…fear?" The figure sighed softly and dragged his head a bit closer to Al's hand. "Do you fear me, Japan?" Still nothing. He gave up. There was no point in talking to him, the fever prevented any clear thoughts anyways.

Two days later, Al found a visitor at his door. He was surprised to see England as he'd heard of the attacks on the island nation that, according to France, left him in no position to travel, not that France was one to talk. But all of that aside, he was still glad to see him.

"How're things going for you, Iggy?" He grinned. Judging from the 'shut-up-and-die' expression on his face…not too well.

"Fine." Ouch. Cold today.

"You want to come in?"

"No, I'd like to stand out in the cold if that's alright with you." So, it was a don't-blink-wrong kind of day, was it? Al let it go, England was far worse off than himself anyway, he had to hand it to him, the old man had been pretty impressive during the war itself, not many nations, much less people, could fight like that with so little. He moved aside and held out a hand for his coat, which Arthur didn't relinquish. Instead, Arthur gingerly perched on the couch and curled up a bit.

"You cold?" Al inquired, pretending not to see the bandages still wrapped up to England's throat. He'd worn a collared shirt and a green tie in a horrible attempt to cover them.

"A bit, yes."

"You want a blanket?"

"If it's not too much of a problem." Alfred left to go fight with his closet of spare sheets and winter blankets, then returned to see Arthur toying with his left glove. He unfolded the thick quilt he'd dug up and draped it over his brother's shoulders.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it." He watched silently as England pulled the quilt closer around himself, coat, gloves and all.

"Is it cold back home?"

"Yes, there isn't quite enough blankets and clothing to go around, but we're slowly recovering. It's better than it was during the war. I get to eat nowadays." Arthur gave him a slight grin that almost made him laugh.

"Iggy, I'll help you out, you know."

"I know, I know. I just hate to be a burden…but there is something that you can help me with." Green eyes rose to Alfred's face. "Can I see Japan?"

He knew that the two island nations had been friends, but Alfred had just figured that they'd had a falling out during to the wars. That and the only people who really visited Japan were himself and China, the other Asians rarely joined in, someone from Europe had yet to even set foot in the country much less the hospital. But he agreed and took England to the hospital and the tiny room that housed the even tinier man.

"He's not really all there right now, kind of got a bit of a fever and his burns are just barely scabbing over, so be really careful, alright?" England gave him a rather peculiar stare, there was something behind it that he just didn't quite understand. He watched as his brother did exactly as he had for several months straight and retrieved the chair on the other side of the room and placed it by Japan's head. He sat down and leaned forward, just as America had and tenderly slid his fingers into the Asian's silky locks. Softly, he began to murmur to the sleeping form, his hands moving out of hair and onto flesh. He stroked Japan's cheeks with the back of his fingers and brushed his hair away from his forehead. Al just blinked. He'd seen Arthur in a plethora of emotions and positions: drunk, homicidal, happy, heart-broken, and raging. But never had he seen his Iggy with such a helpless, broken, yet extremely delicate expression and touch.

"Alfred." He looked up.

"Yeah, old man?"

"There was something I never told you…"

"I think that there's a ton of somethings you never told me and more than a handful of them, I don't want to know."

"I'm being serious, Alfred."

"As am I. I'm listening, you can tell me anything." Arthur suddenly appeared to be very uncomfortable.

"Well, Japan and I were great friends."

"I thought this was something I didn't know."

"It is, now if you'd shut up for five seconds of your existence, I'll tell you." Ah, how he had missed his Iggy, unconsciously, a grin took over his face.

"Anyways, Japan and I were great friends; we really understood each other and all that nice mess that comes with friendship. But I say: were. About thirty or more years ago, before all of these wars started, we decided to be a bit more than that. And you can fill in the rest-"

"So you guys are lovers?" Al asked as calmly as possible, though in his mind he was thoroughly confused and somewhat…hurt? Upset?

"Something like that."

"What is 'something?'" What was up with him? It was like he was slamming South Korea against the wall again, he just suddenly felt defensive.

"'Something' is…well…" he removed his left glove and America finally found what he'd been fidgeting with before. It was a smooth gold band, wrapped securely around England's slender, pale ring finger. The ring itself was simple, in fact, it looked like it'd seen some action itself, some tiny dents and scuff marks appeared here and there on it. But it was the fact that this was England, his brother, his Iggy, who was wearing it that really shocked him. Feeling extremely awkward and really stupid, he pointed at Japan.

"He's your-"

"Yes."

"And you're his-"

"Yes."

"But he doesn't have a ring…" Arthur reached over the bed to a small nightstand on which a small, purple velvet bag lay. A white paper tag was wrapped around one of the drawstrings and read 'personal effects.' Arthur took the bag in his now-bare hand and sat back down. He gently poured the contents of the bag onto the bed before Japan. Dogtags, a book, a stack of letters bound together by a cord, a few pins (they looked like hairpins to Al, but he said nothing), a photograph and a necklace tumbled out of their home and lay on the white sheets. The dogtags read 'Honda Kiku' in English, then had a series of characters in place of everything else. One glance at the letters revealed that they were all sent from various places in Europe, Alfred assumed that these were written by Arthur. The photograph was of Arthur as well. As for the hairpins, upon seeing Al's bewilderment, England laughed and explained;

"He put them in his hair, on the sides, here." He tucked some rebellious strands of silk behind Japan's ear. "He told me he'd actually gotten them from America, they kept his hair out of his face and they aren't as big and fancy as the combs that women in his country wear. I always asked him why he didn't just cut his hair and the poor thing looked like he'd seen a ghost. A bit vain, I think. But this is what is important." He held up the necklace. It was a simple chain with a ring, identical to Arthur's only a great deal smaller, hanging at the bottom of the loop. "He didn't actually know how to wear it when I first gave it to him, then he refused to wear it, claiming that he refused to be 'tagged like a *ahem* dog.'"

Arthur grinned down at the sleeping man. Al was actually mildly amused at this idea, Japan usually seemed so submissive and calm (personality-wise, definitely not in a military sense), it was strange to hear about him acting out.

"Anyways, I guess he missed me during the war because I'm told by some of the soldiers that he was always wearing it or holding it, even after one of the officials took it from him and threw it in the mud." He seemed a bit proud.

"Why would they do that?"

"Something about being distracted."

"Ah." He stood for a few moments before excusing himself to go find (steal) another chair because he could tell that they were going to be there for a while. Upon exiting the room, he felt something strange bubble up in his chest. For some inexplicable reason, he didn't like the idea that his brother, _his _Iggy, was involved with Japan, _his_ friend. He didn't even know why not, it wasn't that they looked bad together or he didn't like one of them…maybe it was because he liked both of them…maybe he was just being protective of both of them simultaneously and it just wasn't working. That had to be it. What else could explain why his muscles tensed when Arthur touched Japan or when Japan made some sort of movement? It must be a big brother thing, he didn't like it when people touched Matthew either, especially France or Russia…in fact, he didn't like it when Russia touched anything.

Eventually, he did acquire (bargained with an old man three rooms down) a chair and returned to the room. He pushed open the door and set the chair down next to his brother before throwing himself into it. He then joined Arthur in his staring contest with a mop of black hair. After about five minutes of this, he declared himself bored and studied Arthur's intent expression. After another five minutes he decided he would die if such conditions continued.

"We can wake him up, you know?"

"I know."

"So…why don't we?" If there was ever a 'you're an idiot look', Arthur made it.

"It's common courtesy to let the nearly fatally injured sleep, Alfred. How would you feel if a monstrous, blond lumberjack with a cowlick woke you up?"

"It's…not a cowlick…" he mumbled, "it's Nantucket…"

"Cowlick."

"Nantucket."

"I'm not going to play this game with you."

"Yes you are and we both know it."

"Asa-san?" The two blondes froze. That voice didn't quite match up. Both turned their heads to see Japan trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes with a bandaged hand. He looked completely bed-rumpled but was quickly waking up. "Asa-san?" he asked again, this time, forcing himself to his elbows and almost up in a sitting position. Arthur snapped out of it first.

"Kiku…" he suddenly swamped the small frame in a massive bear hug, leaving Alfred to fear for Japan's recently-healed ribs. "Kiku, Kiku you're okay! I've been so worried…" Al didn't even have to look up to see the tears of relief flowing down England's face.

"Asa-san…Asa-san?"

"Yes, love?"

"I think you're going to crush my chest…"

"Good God!" He released Kiku, who looked even more disheveled than before. "Are you alright, I didn't mean to hurt you! I'm sorry!" Kiku just smiled and wrapped his thin arms around him.

"I'm okay, America-sama has been treating me well."

"Aw man, I told you to call me 'Al.' I haven't been doing that much." Japan studied him.

"Al-sama?" Alfred found himself liking the puzzled expression.

"Nah, just Al."

"Al-san?"

"Japan- just Al."

"Al-kun."

"Iggy, help me!" England laughed.

"You'll have to make a deal with him, Al." A hand scratched at the back of his head momentarily.

"Okay, how about this: you call me 'Al' and I'll call you 'Kiku.' Deal?" Japan stared at him, he could feel the confusion and fear coming off of him.

"But-America-sama-"

"I'm sorry, who?"

"Am-"

"Who?"

"Al…kun?"

"Let's go with that. Yes, Kiku?" Japan almost seemed to recoil at his name being used.

"Ano-I-"

"You don't look so good, Kiku." Al laid his hand on his 'friend's' forehead. There was definitely heat behind it and he could tell that Japan was beginning to fade off again. "Why don't you lay down?" He didn't really have much choice. It was lay down or fall, so with Arthur's help, he curled up under the sheets again. This time wrapping thin, ivory fingers around Arthur's hand and clenching it as tightly as he could, which wasn't very hard given his condition.

"Ano-Al…kun? May I speak to Asa-san?"

With a nod, he stood and left the room. As soon as the door closed he found that that feeling in his chest began to return. He didn't like that the two of them, the two people he cared most about in the world (disregarding Matt, because that was a given) were leaving him out of something. Frustration began to rear its ugly head as the inability to comprehend and process these bizarre emotions presented itself and all that Al was left to do was to study the small garbage bin outside the room. In it was a bouquet of dead, dried chrysanthemums.

A/N: Yes, well, haven't updated in forever and changed the story a bit. It's going to be more AsaKiku now, but with the onesided USxJapan. Sorry if that disappoints anyone, oh, and this isn't going to get all romancy or anything like that (I suck royally at writing it) so no worries. Oh and yeah, they're married, 'cause it'd be cute…that's the only good reason I've come up with. Please review


	4. Chapter 4

Kiku was sleeping again when Al was allowed back into the room. Arthur nodded his thanks and gathered his coat and gloves, then gently stroked Japan's hair some more before deciding that he was going to make it through the night and moved towards Al. The walk home was filled to the brim with awkward silences. England was obviously content and Alfred was trying to sort through the mess that he called an 'emotional process.' He began to calm down once securely locked in his house.

"You gonna stay with me, Iggy?" He asked over his shoulder as he locked every other lock of his door. Only silence answered him. "Hey, it's okay if you don't, I mean, I'm sure you have some other-"

"Al?" He blinked, turning to face Arthur's completely confused expression. What'd he do now? No tea? No, he had tea, he always had tea, he wasn't about to make that mistake ever again. Being threatened with a wooden spoon is not a good situation to wake up to, ever.

"There's tea in the cabinet above the stove, it's there, I promise. There should be about forty or fifty different kinds too 'cause you know, I didn't know if you just like Earl Grey or if you like all those complicated 'mango-leaf and elephant toe' mixes-"

"Al, there are six locks on your door."

"Well, I'm glad you can see today." He made to move towards the kitchen but was blocked by a very perplexed and slightly annoyed Arthur.

"That isn't the point. Al, there are SIX locks on your door." Alfred slid around him, and went on his way to the kitchen to hunt down the tea.

"You're right, the point is that you can count, too. Yay Iggy! You haven't actually lost your mind!" he said over his shoulder, identifying the brown box with the words 'Earl Grey' in fancy lettering and digging it out from his collection.

"Alfred F. Jones, would you kindly tell me _why_ exactly you need _six_ locks on the door to your own home?" Al stopped in his tea-preparations. Was Arthur really that dense?

"Okay, first off, this is New York, that's reason enough to need lots of locks. But more importantly, when that….Russia…tries to break in here, he's just gonna go in a line all the way down or up or whatever way his filthy, red, twisted mind makes him. So, if you only lock every other one, when he unlocks the first one, he's gonna lock the second one and so on. Essentially, unless he's really good, every time he tries to break in, he'd just gonna lock himself out." He finished, clearly proud of this logic. Arthur just stared.

"Or, he can just kick in the door." He stated. Al blinked. He hadn't thought of that. Immediately, he abandoned the tea and strode off in a hurry to call someone in need of a metal door. Arthur realized his mistake.

"No, wait! Al! I didn't mean that he would actually do that! I mean-Russia- he's kind of dense and- for Pete's sake, Al! Ivan is not going to smash in your door! That takes effort and- uh-uh- thought! And you know- that- er- filthy, red, twisted commie is too stupid to actually have thought processes! You know that, you told _me_ that, remember?" He laughed nervously, knowing completely well that Al would actually go find a metal door and hole himself up for half a century, what did Kiku call it, 'Hikikomori?' something like that.

Alfred paused, mulling over Arthur's words. "You're right, Iggy. That jerk's too stupid to have thought processes." Arthur thought that Al smiled just a bit too much while he said that. He dropped the subject and returned to making tea and setting up his coffee maker. After a few moments, he handed his brother, who had returned to the abandoned quilt on the couch, a cup of hot tea and went about fixing his coffee. Once satisfied with the witch's brew, he parked himself next to England. The silence once again became awkward and Al fidgeted with his jacket unconsciously. He peeked over at his couch-mate and found that he was perfectly content with his tea and seemed to be deeply considering it.

"Al." he jumped at the sudden noise.

"Yeah?" Arthur turned to look at him.

"How long do you think it's going to take?"

"How long is what going to take?" He sipped at his coffee. Arthur tilted his head back down, studying the swirls of steam produced by the amber substance in his hands.

"How long is it going to take until Kiku is better? And by 'better' I mean 'healed.'" America set his coffee down and tugged lightly on the quilt, making the other blonde meet his eyes; he set a soft smile on his face and placed a hand onto Arthur's shoulder,

"Completely honestly, it's gonna take a long time. He's in really bad condition, but I don't want you to worry 'cause I'm gonna do everything in my power to make sure that he gets better, even if that means that he has to live with me for a while, okay?" He liked that look, he always had. The equally soft if not softer smile on his Iggy's face brought out the best in him, it smooth the creases in his forehead and brightened his green eyes just enough to make them noticeable.

"Thank you, Alfred. I mean it. But please don't force yourself into this. Believe it or not…Kiku's actually quite the character…he can be a bit of work…so I'll take care of him, please call me and tell me when I need to." Al snorted.

"Iggy, you can barely take care of yourself. Didn't I tell you not to worry. I've got this covered, besides, Japan and I were friends before, why shouldn't we be friends again?"

"Two bombs say otherwise."

"Okay, well, yeah that's true. But that's not the point! I have the resources and if I can be friends with a whale, for sure I can be friends with Japan again!" England actually laughed, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand and pinching the bridge of his nose a bit.

"Al, you don't even know." Alfred grinned, he knew he'd won this one.

What he didn't know was that two weeks later, that conversation would become reality. Japan had reached a stable condition and the doctors were starting to wonder what was taking so long. They cornered him when he was visiting and started to ask him about running more tests and giving different medicine, so he told them that he was there to collect Japan and take him home against medical advice…which was extremely well received. He never thought he'd ever be chased down a hallway in a _hospital_, much less by well educated men wearing ties. Only after threatening a lawsuit for harassment did they stop and even then, not willingly. But Al held true to his word, he marched right into to Kiku's room with a small suitcase in his hand.

At first, Kiku didn't do anything, he seemed preoccupied with determining how knob on the window worked, but he immediately sat down when he saw Al staring at him.

"Al-san?"

"Who?"

"You, Al-sa-"

"I don't know who you're referring to." Poor Kiku looked helpless without Arthur there as moral support.

"Al-kun?"

"Oh, I know him," He grinned, "what's up?" Kiku pointed at the bag in his hand.

"Are you staying here?"

"Au contaire," he grinned, sending mental thanks to Matt, "_You_ are _not_ staying here." Japan looked at him like he was a pink rocket with bunnies painted on the side.

"Eh?" With that he was hefted up as one would throw sack of grain over their shoulder. "America-sa- I mean, Al-sama- no, I mean, Alfred-san! No! That's still wrong!" Al just laughed at Japan's flustering, knowing that there would be no fight here.

"You're coming home with me." Simply stated.

"Wha?" Kiku tried to twist around to see if Al was joking or not but was unable to do that. Huffing, he settled down onto his shoulder, murmuring violently in Japanese. After he began punctuating his murmurs with light punches, Al started to catch on that Kiku wasn't exactly thrilled about these conditions.

"Hey, it's not so bad. I got a bed for you and everything, even girly comforters and pillows. I have better food at home and there aren't any visiting hours so Iggy can come to see you whenever you want him to." The murmuring was slowing down. He had to admit, Arthur's words might have actually had something behind them; what kind of guy wants to stay in a hospital. "Oh, and I have your meds too, and they're gonna be shipping them to me so you only have to come back here every so often and I still have the whale so it's not like you'll be lone-"

"Al-kun." He turned his head, grinning like an idiot.

"Yeah?"

"I want my dog." Japan's eyes were narrowed and his words were cold. America faltered a bit.

"Oh...okay, well we can ask China to look after him or something-"

"Al-kun." God, he was actually kind of scary…

"…yeah?"

"I want my dog, here."

"Okay…well, I'll see what I can do about that," those eyes got narrower, "Actually, you know what? I'll call General MacArthur as soon as we get home and tell him to send…er-"

"Pochi-kun."

"-To send 'Pochi-kun' to my place." His confidence was fading. Maybe England was right, maybe he was going to be something of a handful.

"Al-kun…I don't want Pochi-kun sent here…"

"Oh? Well, we can let him live with Arthur if you want-"

"I want to go home, Al-kun.' Ah. There it was. That was the problem. It wasn't that he didn't want to leave the hospital; it was just that he didn't want to go with Al…ouch, that kind of hurt a little bit.

"You know what? I do too. So why don't we? My place is just around the corner." he plastered on a fake grin this time.

"No!" With that, Japan began to struggle. It was quite the shock for America and if he hadn't been paying attention he might have dropped him. Carefully, as he didn't want to hurt the Asian any more than he already had, he shifted him and wrapped one arm around his legs and the other around his shoulders, moving him to a bridal-style position, which only served to make Kiku even more mad (he was NOT a woman) and he struggled harder, almost going as far as to bite Al. All this didn't even begin to cover the weird stares the two were getting from passersby. Realizing that he probably was beginning to look like either a kidnapper or rapist, Al stopped and set Japan down. Once again, fortune was busy that day and decided not to shine down on the American as Kiku just about took off as soon as his feet hit the ground; which led to arm-grabbing; which led to pained screaming; which led to profuse apologizing and America officially looking like a pathetic convict. Sighing, he roughly grabbed Japan and hugged him tightly so that the screaming would be muffled. Feeling the glare of several nearby mothers, he snarled at them and once more lifted his 'friend' into his arms, making sure to keep his head buried in his shoulder to quiet the noise and set off home at a rapid pace.

Slamming the door and locking every other lock starting from the bottom this time, he dropped Japan on the couch and leaned against the wall. This man was trying his patience and that never led to good things.

"Why. Won't. You. Just. Comply?" He huffed, glaring at the form on the couch. What he didn't expect was for Japan to whip around to shoot an equally frightening snarl back.

"Isn't that what you told me before you dropped those bombs, too? What do you want from me? You've taken my homeland, my people, you've disarmed me, and you've won the war! What else do you want? My dog? My life? Why can't you just leave me alone? I have nothing else to give you! So stop! Please…please just stop…" any anger Al had built up vanished with the sight of Japan trying in vain to scrub away angry tears. His shoulders shook lightly and he buried his face into his knees, forming a little ball. "I-I just want…want to go home…I want to go home…I promise I won't do anything. There's nothing for me to do. I won't attack anyone, I don't have anything to attack with and everyone else is stronger than me now, and even if I'm down and kicked, I'm not stupid. So please, let me go home…" Hiccups and sobs quietly emerged from the ball and broke Al's heart. He wasn't mad anymore, but he didn't know how to fix this. Gingerly, he leaned over to place a hand on his 'friend's' shoulder, but Japan flinched away and curled up even tighter and beginning to sob harder. Alfred began to fear that his wounds would reopen and all of that progress would go to naught.

"Hey," he said softly, "look at me, please?" Watery brown eyes peeked out from a curtain of black, serving only to make Al feel even worse. "How about this, I'll call to get your dog sent over here, and then I'll call Arthur and he can explain everything. Is that better? I know I'm no good at these kinds of things and I didn't mean to hurt you or anything. I don't want to do anything to you, I just want you to get better, I promise. It's just…well, I guess I'm just young and stupid and rash and I didn't think about how you would feel about the whole thing." He paused and rifled through his pockets for moment before producing the little purple velvet bag and opening it. Carefully he pulled out the necklace with the golden band hanging from it and unhooked it. Removing the chain, he took Kiku's hand and pulled it as tenderly as possible away from the rest of him. He slid the ring on the appropriate finger and let go of the hand, watching and Kiku immediately retracted it and curled up again, this time, though, he peeked out a little at Al.

"He misses you and wishes you would wear it like you're supposed to." He said, gesturing to said object. "It doesn't make you a dog, it just connects the two of you. Now, I'll go call him."

Of all things he had expected, pale ivory fingers grasping his hand weren't anywhere near even the bottom of the list. Kiku mumbled something into his knees.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said, 'don't call him.' He has enough to worry about." He glanced up at Al, then back down to his knees. "I'll…I'll deal with it…I'm….I'm sorry for my behavior and I hope that you'll forgive me." Al smiled, he was so cute. No wonder Arthur liked him so much.

"No worries. But I will have Pachi sent this way." Those eyes narrowed again,

"It's 'Pochi'" With a laugh, Al stood and gathered a surprised Japan in his arms, but this time, he didn't resist.

"Well, whoever he is, he'll be here in the next few days or so. But until then, I think you should get some sleep…" he blinked, his words went unheard as the Asian in his arms was already snuggled into his shoulder, out like a light.

"YOU DID WHAT?" the phone was nearly hurled to the ground in Al's attempt to escape the furious Englishman on the other side. "I SWEAR to GOD, ALFRED if you EVER make him cry EVER again, you will curse the day you chose me over France! Do you HEAR me, you horrible, insignificant, pathetic, ignorant, arrogant, selfish-"

"Alright, alright, alright. Geez, Iggy, I didn't mean to, it just happened." A furious shout. "Yeah, yeah, it won't happen again, I promise."

"You better hope not because, Boy, I will do more damage to your face, your vitals, and your country than Russia could ever even DREAM of doing! Do you hear me you little brat!" Al almost had to laugh at the mental image of a Iggyzilla.

"I got it, and he's fine now, actually he's right here, do you want to talk to- wait where'd he go?"

"WHAT?"

"Hold on, old man, there's someone at the door." He set the phone down and walked over to the door where surprisingly Kiku was. He blinked then realized the problem. Kiku kept locking and unlocking the six locks. He looked completely baffled and frustrated and when Al approached he pointed at them indignantly,

"Are you expecting a burglarly?" He laughed.

"No, actually, I'm expecting a Commie." He unlocked the remaining three and waved at the delivery man. After he signed the paper, the man went around the back of the truck and reappeared with a small kennel. Al took it and thanked the man, then closed the door. He set it on the ground next to Japan and walked back to the phone where an angry Englishman waited.

"Who was that?"

"The Delivery guy."

"What did you order?"

"Pochi-kun!" An excited shout emerged from the next room as well as what sounded like an endless onslaught of yapping. Al grinned, he heard Arthur sigh.

"You are forgiven…but only _temporarily_ you horrible brat! I swear if you-"

"I know, Love ya, bye Iggy!"

"Don't you- hang…up…moron…"

**A/N:** Ah, finally updated At first I thought Japan would be out of character, but then I reflected on how I would feel if some guy who'd just tried to kill me was kidnapping me and…well I don't think he is completely out of character. Oh and tea is so complicated! My god, how many things can you put in such a tiny bag? If you don't believe me just go look at your local tea aisle, they have things like 'oolong, black and green tea with a hint of passion fruit and jasmine accompanied by orange and other citrus zest." Too much. Drink Coffee.


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